George Fred Pelham's 1893 332 West 51st Street

 

In September 1890, real estate operator William Ramsey purchased the three, three-story brick houses at 330 through 334 West 51st Street.  Each of them was 20-feet wide, giving Ramsey a 60-foot wide parcel upon which to build.  He would replace the three structures with two flat buildings.

Ramsey commissioned George Frederick Pelham to design the the structures.  In doing so, he was, perhaps, taking a risk.  The 23-year-old architect had just opened his office that year.  Born in 1867 in Ottawa, Ontario, he was the son of architect George Brown Pelham, who brought his family to New York City in 1875.  George had entered his father's firm as a draftsman.  Ramsey's commission was among the earliest--if not the first--he received.

Construction on the identical, Romanesque Revival-style buildings was completed in 1891.  The first and second floors were faced in brownstone and the upper three in orange brick.  The arched entrance, which sat above a four-step stoop, and the panels below the windows were carved with intricate Romanesque-style carvings.  Above a molded cornice, the second floor was faced in planar stone, its openings framed in undressed brownstone and capped with dramatic, flaring voussoirs.  

The third and fourth floors sat between molded intermediate cornices.  Double-height brick piers between the openings were capped with carved medieval-style capitals.  They were connected by layered stone arches, the single spandrel of which was filled with elaborate foliate carvings.  The arched windows of the top floor wore brownstone voussoirs capped with stone eyebrows.  

Described as "double flats," the buildings had two apartments per floor.  An advertisement for both buildings in April 1893 offered, "Elegantly decorated apartments of 7 rooms and bath, all light; steam heat, &c.; rent $45 and upward."  Given the location on the eastern edge of Hell's Kitchen, the rent was somewhat pricey.  The base rent would translate to $1,625 in 2026.

Among the initial residents of 332 West 51st Street were Dr. William S. McMurdy and his wife, Fannie, who were married in 1890.  Born in 1858, McMurdy was an 1881 graduate of Princeton University and earned his medical degree at the College of Physicians and Surgeons. He started his practice in 1889.

Like almost all doctors, McMurdy was called upon day and night.  On April 13, 1895, The Evening World began an article saying, "A small epidemic of insanity swept over Manhattan Island during last night."  Among the "several cases of a more or less violent nature," was that of John Kane, a driver for Hook and Ladder Truck 21.  Two years earlier, he suffered a head injury while fighting a fire and "since that time he has been acting queerly," explained The Evening World.  In January 1895, his condition became so severe that he was put on sick leave.

At 1:00 on the morning of April 13, Kane told his wife that "he was going out to find the captain of his company and kill him."  Alarmed, Mrs. Kane summoned Dr. McMurdy.  When he arrived, Kane told him that he knew that he was insane, but could not stop his murderous impulses.  "He asked, for the safety of his wife and child, that he be taken to a hospital," reported The Evening World.  Kane was taken by ambulance to Roosevelt Hospital and later removed to Bellevue Hospital.

Mrs. E. Lambert, who lived here as early as 1898, was the guardian of her 19-year-old nephew, George Austin.  He left their apartment on August 23 and did not come home.  Five days later Mrs. Lambert was frantic.  The New York Herald reported, "She said she had made a round of all the hospitals of the city and had caused an alarm to be sent out by the police, but has received no tidings of the missing youth."  It is unclear whether Austin was ever found.

The unmarried Marie Quinn was pulled into a bizarre incident involving one of New York City's wealthiest bachelors, Robert Goelet, in November 1903.  Eleanor Anderson, who lived next door at 330 West 51st Street, asked Marie to go to St. Patrick's Cathedral and "vouch for her character" to Father Lavelle.  Marie did so.  (Eleanor was a telegraph operator, the daughter of a Sixth Avenue restaurant owner, and the sister of "the champion oyster opener of Sixth avenue," as described by the New York Herald.)

On November 3, Robert Goelet left his Newport mansion to travel to New York City, "wondering who had put into circulation a story published yesterday afternoon that he had married a Miss Eleanor Anderson of 330 West Fifty-first street," reported the New York Herald.  Goelet told reporters, "I have not the pleasure of the lady's acquaintance.  I never even heard of her existence until the newspaper story of my marriage to her appeared."  Additionally, said the Episcopalian millionaire, "Only once in my life have I been in the Cathedral, and then I only went to look at the place."

Marie Quinn could not help in the mystery.  She told a reporter that Eleanor had not told her the groom's name.  Father Lavelle was equally unhelpful, saying, "Miss Anderson's matrimonial arrangements...were none of the public's business."  What was certain, however, is that Robert Goelet was not Eleanor Anderson's new husband.

Although the residents of 332 West 51st Street were middle class, they were affluent enough to afford domestic help.  Albert Hartog and his wife employed a maid, Mable Lewis, in 1905.  On September 5, the New York Herald reported, "she disappeared after she had been at work a few days, taking a watch and pin worth $240."  (The value of the items would equal more than $8,800 today.)

As it turned out, this was not Mabel's first offense.  Young women often practiced what police called the "service game," taking domestic jobs just to steal valuables.  "When police looked up the woman's record they found that her picture is in the rogues' gallery and that she has served time for similar thefts," reported the New York Herald.

On September 3, Hartog was walking along Eighth Avenue when he saw Mable at 54th Street.  The New York Herald reported that he, "took her by the back of the neck and marched her to the West Forty-seventh street station, where she confessed."  The pin was recovered, but the watch had apparently been pawned. 

Albert Wilcox and his wife lived here in November 1934, when they had a young houseguest, Private John G. McFadden, a soldier stationed at the Military Academy at West Point.  Among McFadden's extracurricular duties was the "custodianship of the mule that is the Army mascot."  The soldier was on his way to Pennsylvania where the Army-Navy football game was scheduled to be played on December 1 at Franklin Field.  (The New York Times explained, "When the Army team plays out of town...the regular mascot stays at home and a substitute is hired at the place where the game is played.)

McFadden had met the Wilcoxes on a previous visit to New York City.  When he arrived at the train station, they were there to meet him and took him to their apartment for a night's rest.  The visit ended up very badly.

When he awoke, McFadden realized his watch was gone.  He accused Albert Wilcox of theft and had him arrested.  Wilcox denied stealing the watch, but was held without bail on a grand larceny charge.  The New York Times reported on December 3, that McFadden, "missed the Army-Navy football game on Saturday and lost his watch as well."  Private McFadden grumbled, "I wish I had stayed with my mule."

Another resident, elevator operator Al Jenkins, found himself behind bars two years later.  He and his union members were on strike in 1936.  Just before noon on March 4, he and another striker went to the 20th floor of 135 West 26th Street to confront two strikebreakers.  Concealed under their coats  were "heavy axe-handles," as described by The New York Times.  Jenkins and James Caffrey were arrested for felonious assault.

image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

Charles Schwartz occupied an apartment here in 1944.  He and Floyd Markowitz operated a shady business in the vacant storefront of 254 West 49th Street.  Detectives told reporters "they had been watching the store for some time, after learning that illegal liquor was being distributed somewhere in the neighborhood."  On March 3, the Police Commissioner's "confidential squad" raided the space.  The New York Times reported that they "seized fourteen cases of what they declared was bootleg whisky, with counterfeit labels and revenue stamps."  Schwartz and Markowitz were arrested, charged with "possessing untaxed liquors."

By mid-century, 332 West 51st Street was being operated as a furnished rooming house run by Mrs. Frank Davis.  Among her tenants in 1951 was 28-year-old Tillie Goldstein.  Patrons of the Radio City Music Hall in the summer of 1951 might have encountered Tillie carrying a container labeled "Give for Mt. Ebenezer Baptist Church."  On June 4, The New York Times said she had been arrested for "soliciting without a permit."  Tillie admitted she had collected "maybe $300 or $400" for the church.  The Rev. Lafayette W. Rogers, rector of Mt. Ebenezer Baptist Church, said she had donated $8.

Also living at 332 West 51st Street at the time was a celebrity of sorts, Alvin A. Kelly, known nationwide as Shipwreck Kelly.  Born on May 13, 1893 and a World War I Navy veteran, he became famous as "the redoubtable flagpole sitter and stuntman in the Roaring Twenties," as described by The New York Times.  The newspaper recalled:

His greatest feat was his stay on top of a flagpole on the Steel Pier at Atlantic City for 1,177 hours, or more than forty-nine days, in the summer of 1930.  The vogue for flagpole-sitting and goldfish-swallowing dwindled about that time, and it is believed that the record still stands.

Alvin A. "Shipwreck" Kelly as he appeared in 1939.  Associated Press, October 12, 1952

Mrs. Frank Davis told reporters that Shipwreck Kelly "suffered from an asthmatic heart and hardening of the arteries."  At 7:00 on the night of October 11, 1952, he fell onto the sidewalk "a few doors from the furnished flat at 332 West Fifty-first Street where he had been living alone on home relief," reported The New York Times.  He died on the scene, "with a scrapbook full of old newspaper clippings under his arm," said the article.

In the early 2000s, the cornice was missing.  image via google streetview.

Several residents of the rooming house continued to be on the wrong side of the law.  On December 2, 1960, Eric Larson was arrested for attempting "to extort $3,000 from James Muro, a Corona, Queens tow-truck operator," as described by The New York Times.  And in August 1966, 21-year-old Lanny Arbucci was arrested for selling "pep pills and capsules."  Charged with what was perhaps the most disturbing crime was resident Carlos Antrades.  The 33-year-old was arrested in August 1986 with promoting the prostitution of boys as young as 14 years old.

By the early 2000s, the building and its next door twin were seriously neglected.  On December 17, 2014, Manhattan Community Board Four reported complaints of "vermin infestation, lack of building services, non-working bathrooms and sporadic hot water."  Lantern Group purchased both properties for conversion to single-room-occupancy units.  

A full-gut renovation resulted in one-person apartments "available to single persons," according to 6sqft on August 23, 2017.  The article noted the building offered, "24-hour security, an on-site resident manager, community room, backyard, laundry room, and on-site social services for low-income or formerly homeless households with special needs."  Including in the renovation was the reproduction of the lost cornice.

photographs by the author

The 1853 David Read House - 343 West 47th Street

 

Prior to 2023, the altered mansion appeared like this.  image via loopnet.com

Born in 1830, Henry Astor was the youngest son of William Backhouse and Margaret Armstrong Astor.  He incurred the wrath of his family at the age of 20 when he married Malvina Dinehart--the daughter of a farmer and gardener who lived near the Astor family's summer residence at Red Hook, New York and who had done gardening on the estate.

Henry and Malvina moved to West Copake, New York.  Most New Yorkers assumed that his disobedience resulted in his ruin.  Decades later The New York Times remarked, "It was thought for years that he was a pauper, disinherited for marrying the gardener's daughter."  Instead, he and his wife lived well on "the rents from property in the heart of New York City, valued at many millions."  It was held in trust, however, and Henry was kept at arm's length from his holdings.  The newspaper added, "The trust established for Henry Astor was recommitted in 1869 to his brothers, John Jacob Astor and William Astor."

Among Henry Astor's holdings was a 25-f00t-wide, four-story Italianate style residence at 223 West 47th Street (renumbered 343 in 1863.)  The arched entrance above a short stoop sat off-center.  It was flanked by carved foliate brackets that upheld an arched pediment.  Beside the stoop was a narrow horsewalk, or passageway, that tunneled through the structure and accessed the rear yard.  In the rear was a three-story wooden building.

Astor's first tenants in the house appear to have been the families of Thomas Allen, a carpenter, and William Murfit, a carman, here in 1853.  Almost assuredly, Allen used the rear building for his carpentry business. 

At the time, David Read and his family lived at 107 West 29th Street.  Like Thomas Allen, he was a carpenter.  He specialized in the making of sashes and blinds.  In 1856, he signed a lease on the West 47th Street property, moving his family into the house and his business into the rear building.

Read was apparently highly successful.  While most families with substantial homes like this one took in at least one boarder or roomer, the Reads lived alone.  It suggests that the family was comfortably affluent.  Additionally, the social columns noted the Reads' arrival at Newport each season.

After leasing the house for two decades, on January 17, 1874 the Real Estate Record & Guide reported that "John Jacob Astor, Jr., William, and Henry Astor" had sold 343 West 47th Street to David Read.  

The Reads' daughter, Emma, was a young woman in 1876 and taught girls in Grammar School No. 17 on West 47th Street near Ninth Avenue.  She still held that position in 1879 when her parents sold 343 West 47th Street to Charlotte A. Morris for $15,000 (about $487,000 in 2026).

While David Read continued to operate his business from the rear building (apparently renting it), his former refined home was now operated as a boarding house.  The tenants, nevertheless, were middle-class.  Among them in 1880 were Henry Upton, a real estate agent; Henry Sherman, who listed his profession as "superintendent;" and John Green, who did not list a title, suggesting he was retired.

Among the boarders in 1890 were Charles N. Moulton, who worked as a driver for the Mutual Benefit Ice Company; and Louis Curtis, an auctioneer.  On June 1, Moulton left New York "rather suddenly," according to the New York Herald, for East Charleston, Vermont, where he became a contractor.  Before leaving, he handed his bank book from the New York Savings Bank on 14th Street to Curtis for safe keeping.  

The following year, Moulton became engaged and the wedding was set for the first week of October 1891.  The ceremony would have to be postponed, however.  Moulton wrote to Curtis, asking for the $160 in his bank account.  The New York Herald reported, "This money Curtis drew out, but failed to send any of it to the owner."  The two faced off in court on October 13, 1891.  Moulton was awarded $110 of the original $160.  Curtis was allowed to keep $50 "for expenses" involved in "undertaking business for the plaintiff."

The block was on the border of the more degraded areas of Hell's Kitchen.  In 1893 the Fifth Avenue Baptist Church purchased 343 West 47th Street for its newly-formed mission called The Armitage House.  On April 8, The Christian Union reported that it "is being prepared for mission work of a very practical kind.  We are informed that on the first floor there will be a Sunday-school and general assembly room, on the second floor a kindergarten, and on the third floor a day-nursery."  The article noted, "The locality in which this mission is situated swarms with children, and the need is great."

The Armitage House was an early product of the Settlement House movement.  Reformers hoped that by providing slum children a safe place to play, by teaching impoverished women about nutrition and health, and by giving them skills to earn a living, their miserable lives could be improved.  The day nurseries and kindergartens provided women freedom to work during the day and add to their families' incomes.

On March 31, 1894, the Board of Aldermen approved "two additional lamps in front of the Armitage Mission Church."  The Directory of Social Agencies in 1895 described it as "a centre of philanthropic endeavor" and explained:

It includes a Day Nursery and Kindergarten, Sewing-School, Cooking-School, Reading-Room, a Company of the Boys' Brigade, Branch of the Penny Provident Fund, and a course of Lectures for the people, etc.

A reception by the patronesses (who had society names like Rockefeller, Gould and Flagler) on November 19, 1895 reflected the need and the work that was being done here.  The New-York Tribune reported, "during the last year they have taken care of 4,489 little children and enrolled in the kindergarten 215."

The mission's report two years later reflected a staggering jump in numbers.  In 1896 The Armitage House nursery tended to 6,000 "healthy children under 7 years of age, whose parents are at work away from home during the day."  A larger facility was necessary.

John D. Rockefeller, Sr. donated half of the blockfront on Tenth Avenue at West 50th Street for a new mission house and chapel.  The complex was completed in 1901 and in July 1902 the Fifth Avenue Baptist Church sold 343 West 47th Street to John E. and Annie Dordan. 

Dordan was a builder, having started his career in 1882.  He was now president of John T. Brady & Co., contractors.  Dordan was also highly involved in Tammany politics and in 1905 ran for leadership of the Fifteenth Assembly District.  

A banner promoting John E. Dordan stretches across West 44th Street in 1905. from the collection of the New-York Historical Society.

The Dordans had at least one son.  Well-to-do, they maintained a summer home in Pelham, New York, and in 1910 John would register his new Pierce-Arrow automobile.  Nevertheless, they initially leased the lower portion of the house to the New York School of Industrial Art.  

They, additionally, took in one renter at a time.  Living here in 1904 was 24-year-old William Smith, a chauffeur.  On the afternoon of May 11, he took his friend, William Thaw, on a joy ride.  (Thaw was the son of Pittsburgh millionaire Harry Kendall Thaw who would murder Stanford White two years later.)  The New York Times reported that Smith, while "driving a big forty-horse power automobile," alarmed pedestrians in midtown "by dashing up and down the street for several blocks either way at top speed."  Smith was jailed for reckless driving.  "A young man with him was not held," said that article.

The Dordans continued to take in a roomer.  In 1912 it was John Eberhardt, a truck driver for the Kelly Springfield Tire Company; and the following year, R. Voelckel, a theatrical manager, was here.

Annie Dordan died in the house on January 3, 1916.  Her funeral was held in St. Malachy's church on West 49th Street.  John E. Dordan remained in the house for years.  

image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

Involvement in Tammany Hall often involved interaction with shady dealings and characters.  On December 20, 1922, Richard R. Manden was arrested for running a "place for gambling" on West 44th Street near Broadway, according to The New York Times.  The article said, "John E. Dordan of 343 West Forty-seventh Street appeared promptly to pledge a $35,000 house as security for the bond and Manden was released at once."

Two years later, in April 1924, a grand jury investigated "charges of graft in the letting of Nassau County bridge and road contracts."  The jury's investigation ground to a halt when important witnesses and the "books of construction companies" went missing.  The New York Times reported on April 22, "John E. Dordan, President of John T. Brady & Co., of New York, which had the contract for the $1,000,000 Long Beach bridge has been sought in vain for the last four weeks."  Also missing was the firm's bookkeeper, Anna Fitzgerald.  (Anna's mother told investigators that she "had gone South.")

The article said, "John E. Dordan was not at his home at 343 West Forty-seventh Street last night.  His son, J. J. Dordan, said he had gone to Philadelphia for the day and would return to New York today."  When told that process servers had been unable to find his father, Dordan said flippantly, "I guess they haven't been looking very hard.  He's in his office every day."

Dordan sold 343 West 47th Street in 1928.  Architect Philip Bardes converted it to accommodate "one family and furnished rooms."  The configuration lasted until 1989 when a renovation resulted in one apartment per floor.

After the property was sold for back taxes in 2014, Melamed Architect filed plans for a partial demolition and renovation.  The renderings, released the following year, obliterates any historic fabric.  

image via Melamed Architect PC

In 2026, partial demolition was underway for a six-story, six unit residential building.  In reporting on the plans on October 7, 2015, Nikolai Fedak of New York YIMBY scoffed, "the existing building at 343 West 47th Street was nothing to write home about."  (I didn't get that memo.)

The 1874 Bloomingdale Turnverein - 341 West 47th Street

 

photograph by Carole Teller

Substantial German immigration into New York City began in the 1830s and continued to grow.  In the 1850s, around 800,000 Germans arrived, and while many dispersed to rural areas like Pennsylvania or Ohio, thousands settled in Manhattan's Lower East Side, creating Kleindeutschland, or Little Germany.  A smaller group, however, established a community further north in Hell's Kitchen, just below Bloomingdale Square.

In 1850, a group of German men organized the Bloomingdale Turnverein, or Bloomingdale Gymnastics Club.  They established the club in a vintage building at 341 West 47th Street.  In addition to being an athletic venue, the Bloomingdale Turnverein was (perhaps more importantly) a social club.  It routinely hosted outings and picnics in the summer months, and receptions and balls in the winter.

On June 28, 1869, the New-York Tribune reported that the gymnasium at 341 West 47th Street had been deemed unsafe, noting "Bloomingdale Turnverein, owner."  Apparently, adequate repairs were made to the structure, but two years later, on September 20, 1871, The New York Times reported, "The Bloomingdale Turnverein has recently established a boys' Turn school, and contemplates the erection of a new Turn hall."  (A Turn school-and-hall was a place where German youths could learn and play sports, similar to The Y today.)

The old structure was demolished and a four-story-and-basement, brick-faced edifice erected.  Looking much more like a rowhouse than a clubhouse, its transitional design straddled the Greek Revival and Italianate styles.  Above the stoop, Doric pilasters flanked the arched entrance and upheld an entablature and molded cornice that hailed visitors in German.

The openings originally wore molded lintels, and miniature brackets upheld the sills.  The fascia of the foliate-bracketed cornice announced "BL. Turnverein" and a parapet reflected the date of the ground-breaking: 1873.

In 1940, the window details had been shaved off, but most of the 1874 elements survived.  via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

In January 1873, as construction progressed, the Bloomingdale Turnverein released its annual report.  Although having only 150 members, its capital was $12,000, or about three-quarters of a million in 2026 dollars.  "The Turn school, established by the society, is attended by 175 boys and 38 girls," reported the New-York Tribune.

The building was designed to generate rental income, as well.  In addition to the Bloomingdale Turnverein's clubrooms and gymnasium, the structure held several meeting rooms.  They would be rented by a variety of organizations over the coming years--political, social and ethnic groups, for instance--that used them as their clubrooms on specific weeknights, or for one-time meetings.

On March 29, 1874, an advertisement in the New York Dispatch offered:

To Let--An Elegantly Furnished Lodge-Room (with parlors attached), in the New Hall of the Bloomingdale Turnverein, No. 341 West Forty-seventh street.  Inspection invited.

The halls immediately became popular.  On February 25, 1876, for instance, the New-York Tribune reported, "The XVIIth Assembly District Republican Association held their regular monthly meeting last evening at No. 341 West Forty-seventh-st."  A resolution that night reflected the substantial German presence in the Hell's Kitchen neighborhood.  It said in part:

It would be wise to admit the President of the German Republican Central Committee, and the Chairman of the German Republican Central Committee, as ex-officio members of the Central Committee of the Regular Republican Association.

And on June 29, 1884, the New York Dispatch announced that the Masonic Park Lodge No. 516 "meets first and third Tuesdays, at Turn Hall, No. 341 West Forty-seventh st."

A major holiday for German immigrants was Pfingst-Montag, or Whit Monday.  On May 22, 1877, the New-York Tribune reported, "The celebration of Pfingster began Saturday at noon, when all German workmen stopped work and prepared to take part in the religious observance of Sunday.  Monday and Tuesday are given entirely to holiday amusements, such as picnics, parades, festivals, balls, and athletic exhibitions."  The article said, "The Bloomingdale Turnverein paraded through the streets in the upper part of the city in the morning, and then enjoyed a picnic at Lion Park."

The annual Pfingst-Montag celebrations were always covered by the press.  Five years later, on May 30, 1882, the New-York Tribune reported on the festivities held at Jones's Woods.  "There were athletic contests and exhibitions of all kinds by members of the New-York and the Bloomingdale Turn-Vereins," said the article.  "A band of wind instruments played continually while the games and contests were going on, and in the dancing pavilion an orchestra furnished music to the crowds of young people who danced all the afternoon and until late at night."

Rooms for socials like this one by the Victoria Coterie were rented on a one-time basis.  The New York Globe, January 27, 1883 (copyright expired)

On November 29, 1887, the New York Herald announced that the West 47th Street building had "become inadequate" for the Bloomingdale Turnverein, "owing to the increase in members and scholars."  The club had raised funds to obtain a "larger and more suitable building."  

Another German organization, the New York Central Schuetzen Corps (or shooting club), took over 341 West 47th Street.  The group embarked on a major trip in the spring of 1890.  Forest and Stream reported on May 22, "The New York Central Schuetzen Corps, which will start for the great international shooting festival on June 3, held a farewell meeting and banquet at its rooms, 341 West Forty-seventh street, on the evening of May 14."  That international event was being held in Berlin.  "Their departure will be celebrated by a big all-day German picnic in Hoboken," said the article.

Like the Turnverein, the Schuetzen Corps leased lodge rooms.  Among those renting space in the early 1890s were the Ornamental Plasters' and Shop Hands' Society, the Colored Republican Club, and the West Side Athletic Club.  The latter group held "a stag" on November 11, 1893.  The event included boxing, including "a special bout of six rounds between Harry Martin and Jack Russell."

The changing demographics of Hell's Kitchen was reflected in Irish groups taking space here in the early years of the 20th century.  The New York Philo-Celtic Society began leasing space beginning around 1906.  That year, on April 24, The New York Times reported that it "will produce, in Gaelic...'An Posadh' at the Lexington Avenue Opera House."  The play (the English title of which is The Marriage) "shows the Irish people in their everyday life," said the article.

The date of the ground breaking and "BL. TURNVEREIN" were announced atop the building. via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

The Society's staging of the play in Gaelic was notable.  Determined that Irish roots and culture were not diluted in their new country, it held language classes here.  On October 30, 1909, The Gaelic American reported, "The classes for the study of Irish, which are under very competent teachers, will be held all during the winter on Sundays from 3 to 6 P.M. and on Thursdays from 8 to 10 P.M. at 341 West Forty-seventh street."

Also renting a lodge room at the time were the County Mayo Men's Association and the Irish Counties Athletic Union.  There was a bit of scandal within the former in the spring of 1907.  The group had held a ball the previous St. Patrick's Day.  A review of the books showed that $300 of ticket sales, which were received by the secretary, John T. McIntyre, was not accounted for.  Now, treasurer Peter J. Delaney, discovered that McIntire had collected $30 in dues from members, but never turned it in.  (The total embezzlement would equal nearly $11,500 in 2026 terms.)  On April 9, 1907, McIntire was arrested and jailed.

When Theodore Stucky purchased the building, he renamed it Unity Hall.  While groups continued to lease space as their clubrooms, Stucky gradually wooed theatrical concerns as the nearby Times Square increasingly became the center of Manhattan's theater district.

Stucky suggested that lodge rooms could be used as rehearsal halls.  Masonic Standard, June 3, 1916 (copyright expired)

While Irish groups continued to gather here (in 1919, for instance, The Loyal Orange Order of Protestantism held its meetings here), increasingly theatrical groups rented space.

On June 14, 1919, for instance, The Moving Picture World reported, "The Film Social Club, the membership of which is made up of the operating forces of the various film exchanges, gave its first dance and vaudeville entertainment at Unity Hall, 341 West Forty-seventh street, New York on Thursday evening, May 29."  

Meetings held here two months later were more serious.  Actors nationwide went on strike.  On August 19, 1919, a meeting of the Actors Equity Association was held here that "may result in the mediation of the actors' strike," said the New York Herald.  

Theodore William Stucky was described by the New York Herald as being "identified with the activities of the French colony in this city for many years."  The newspaper said he "owned considerable property on the West Side, among his holdings being Unity Hall...the scene of rehearsals for many big Broadway productions."

Stucky was not merely taking advantage of the building's proximity to the entertainment district, he was fully entrenched in the theater.  He organized the Cercle d'Art Francaise (French Art Circle) and was a major financial supporter of the Operetta Francaise.  (The New York Herald clarified, "Mr. Stucky, despite his associations here, was not a Frenchman.  He was born in Switzerland.")  

In the fall of 1920, Cercle d'Art Francaise produced the opera La Mascotte.  The 16-member cast played in New England and in Washington D.C., but when they opened in Worcester, Massachusetts, it failed and the entire cast and crew were stranded.

Resultantly, Stucky was greatly concerned about finances.  A bachelor, he lived on Riverside Drive, but his office and that of the Cercle d'Art Francaise were at 341 West 47th Street.  The building's superintendent, Frederick Carter, and his family lived in an apartment, most likely in the basement.  On February 5, 1921, Stucky saw Carter's five-year-old daughter in the hallway.  The New York Times reported, "Mr. Stucky picked up the child and, after kissing her several times, began to weep.  'My darling,' he said to the child, 'I am glad you haven't the worries I have.'"

He had told Carter that he had been threatened by creditors and "feared for his life."  At around 4:00 on the afternoon of February 5, Catherine Valo noticed a man pacing back and forth near a bench on which she was sitting at the foot of the Queensboro Bridge.  Shortly afterward, she saw the man climb the railing and jump.

Valo ran to a policeman.  At the point when the man jumped, he found a coat containing "several papers," according to The New York Times.  One was a card printed, "Theodore W. Stucky" on the front.  On the other side, in French, was written, "My Dear Friends: I am sick and am going to end my life."

Irish groups continued to rent spaces in Unity Hall.  An announcement in The Advocate on October 25, 1924 read: "Reception and Dance of the Cork, Kerry and Limerick Boys at Unity Hall, 341 West 47th St., near 9th Ave.  Every Saturday Night.  American and Irish dancing."  And nearly three decades later, on May 30, 1953, the newspaper reported on the "largely attended meeting of the Cork Ladies in the Irish Counties Athletic Union Hall, 341 West 47th St."

In 1942, the Theatre Showcase opened here in one of the former lodge rooms that had previously been converted to a wedding chapel.  On March 20, 1942, Saroyan's one-act play Across the Board on Tomorrow Morning opened.  Four months later, on July 14, The Goldfish Bowl premiered.

In the late 1960s, composer Harvey Schmidt and his partner and lyricist Tom Jones converted the Theatre Showcase to Portfolio Studio.  Schmidt and Jones, best known perhaps for The Fantasticks, were also the creators of musicals like I Do, I Do; 110 in the Shade; and Celebration.  On June 7, 1970, The New York Times said, "they have set up their own theater, Elizabethan stage, dressing rooms and offices."

On December 6, 1974, the newspaper reported that Schmidt and Jones "will present 'Portfolio Revue,' the first of their four original musicals making the team's workshop theater, a converted brownstone, a public showcase."  Four months later, on April 10, 1975, the newspaper announced, "The new Tom Jones-Harvey Schmidt musical, 'Philemon,' reopens tonight...for a six-week run at the team's Portfolio Studio."

Portfolio Studio made way for The 47th Street Playhouse the following year.  On July 15, 1976, In Dublin's Fair City, a revue, opened in the remodeled venue.

The end of theatrical performances here came in 1982 when the building was purchased and emptied in anticipation of conversion to residential purposes.  At the time, police were dealing with a rash of pipe bombings.  In 1981, there were 12 non-terrorist and 11 terrorists explosions.  The next spring, on May 13, 1982, The New York Times reported, "So far this year, the police said, there have been six bomb explosions attributed to 'non-terrorist' actions and six explosions attributed to terrorist groups."  One of the most recent was "in a vacant building at 341 West 47th Street," said the article.

photograph by Carole Teller

The renovation was completed in 1985, resulting in two condominium apartments per floor.  All remnants of the Bloomingdale Turnverein were erased, including the parapet and frieze, and the German inscription above the doorway.

many thanks to artist Carole Teller for suggesting this post

The Lost Stephen N. Simonson Building - 304 West 52nd Street

 

In 1941, a welding shop occupied the ground floor.  Next door to the right was the Palm Garden Theatre.  via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

As early as 1870, the office of carpenter and real estate operator Stephen N. Simonson was located in the ground floor of a frame, two-story structure at 304 West 52nd Street just west of Eighth Avenue.  Its Italianate-style design included wooden architraves and a handsome cornice with scrolled, foliate corbels.

Born in Westchester County, New York in 1833, Simonson was highly involved in civic affairs.  He served as a trustee in the "the common schools" (or public schools), and would be elected an assemblyman in 1879.

Among the properties Simonson represented were several in what was called the West End.  On April 13, 1870, for instance, years before West 72nd Street would be lined with upscale rowhouses, he advertised:

To Let--In Seventy-second-st., between Eighth and Ninth-ave, near westerly entrance of Central Park, a pleasant place; large house, carriage-house, 8 lots, fruit [trees], &c.  Eighth-ave. cars near.  Inquire of S. N. Simonson, 304 West Fifty-second-st.

In 1880, the title of 304 West 52nd Street was transferred to James A. Striker, who owned multiple properties on West 52nd and 53rd Streets.  

Before 1906, the ground floor office was converted to an automobile service garage--one of several in this part of the Hell's Kitchen neighborhood.  The proprietor, like all other service station owners, cavalierly dumped his waste into the public sewers.   The practice resulted in what The Evening World described as "sewerquakes," as motor oil and gasoline ignited below the streets.

Surveyors of the Health Department inspected "the sewerquake district," in the spring of 1906.  On April 28, a dozen service stations, including 304 West 52nd Street, were notified that "no gasoline may be allowed to escape into the house drains and thus into the sewers."  The Evening World reported that manhole covers were being temporarily removed to ventilate the pent-up fumes that had been exploding throughout the area.

In the meantime, the second floor apartment was leased to working class families.  Living here in 1910 was the Maehr family.  Their teenaged son, Alexander, had an ingenious if criminal bent.  On November 26, he went to the residence of Edward Lessberger, "a rich metal manufacturer, 118 East Sixtieth Street," as reported by The New York Times.  He told the maid that he was a messenger boy and was answering a call.  The servant said she was unaware of anyone asking for a messenger, but said she would check.

"Leaving the door ajar, the girl went upstairs to ask Mrs. Lessberger, and when she returned she told the lad no call had been made.  Maehr then left."  Ten minutes later, Edward Lessberg discovered that his expensive overcoat was missing from the coat rack near the front door.  Police began a search for the article with no success.  Then, that afternoon a pawn broker called police headquarters saying that a boy was trying to pawn a coat that "probably did not belong to him."  Unaware that the call was made, Alexander Maehr continued to negotiate with the shop owner until police walked in and arrested him.

The ground floor shop went through several quick turnovers.  In 1913, the Lozier Rubber Works, dealers of automobile tires and inner tubes, occupied the space.  Within two years, the California Auto Sheet Metal Works was here.  It advertised, "Radiator-Fender-Lamp repairing.  Work finished the day received.  Your money refunded if not satisfied."  

In 1920, Rialto Electric Stage Lighting, operated by Charles Schmitz, moved in.  Until recently, theater stages were illuminated by limelight--a bright light created when a flame of burning oxygen and hydrogen was directed through a cylinder of quicklime, or calcium oxide.  Now, the introduction of electricity was transforming theater lighting.

Little Theatres monthly, December, 1923 (copyright expired)

Robert C. Entwistle worked closely with Charles Schmitz until 1926, when he purchased the business and renamed it Robert C. Entwistle Stage Lighting Equipment.  An advertisement in Exhibitors Daily Review that year offered, "technical consultation service in all branches of the trade."

Photographed in 1932, the sign announced "Electric Stage Lighting.  from the collection of the New York Public Library

Like Alexander Maehr, 19-year-0ld Cornelius Desmond, who lived upstairs in 1929, ran afoul of the law on May 8.  That rainy afternoon, Patrolman Edward Johnson stepped into a shoe store on Eighth Avenue during his break.  He walked into the rear room to hang up his raincoat when he heard, "Hands up!" from the front.

Cornelius Desmond and an accomplice had the store owner, Arthur Rubin, at gunpoint.  Johnson took out his service revolver.  The Evening Post said, "He could have shot down the two bandits...But Johnson kept his head.  He 'didn't want to hurt anybody.'"  As Johnson stepped out of the rear, Desmond, "saw the policeman and turned a loaded .38 revolver toward him."  That was the last thing Desmond would remember for a while.  "Just as Desmond tried to pull the trigger something hit him like a Florida tornado.  It was the patrolman's left fist."

With Desmond unconscious on the floor, Frank Kutch dropped his revolver and headed for the door.  Before he could escape, Johnson grabbed him and pulled him back into the rear room.  The teens were charged with assault and robbery, "but they seemed to think that most of the assault was on Johnson's side," said the article.

In 1939, a welding shop had replaced the lighting firm.  from the collection of the New York Public Library

On October 19, 1948, The New York Times reported on plans to erect a 12-story-and-penthouse apartment building on Eighth Avenue between 51st and 52nd Streets.  Something derailed that project, but the reprieve for 304 West 52nd Street and its neighbors would not be especially long.  A hotel building on the site was completed in 1962, and it was replaced in 2015.

Emery Roth's 1924 Hotel Whitby - 325 West 45th Street

image via caldwellbankerhomes.com

Developers and contractors Bing & Bing often worked with architect Emery Roth.  Separately and together, they were among the most influential apartment building developers and architects in New York City in early 20th century.  In 1923, Bing & Bing, in cooperation with Gresham Realty Company (of which Alexander Bing was head), acquired the old buildings at 325 through 329 West 45th Street between Eighth and Ninth Avenues.  The firm hired Emery Roth to design a ten-story residential hotel on the site.  (Although tenants of residential hotels had long leases, like apartment buildings, they enjoyed the amenities of transient hotels, like maid service.)  

Completed in 1924, the Hotel Whitby was faced in beige brick and trimmed in limestone.  Roth's U-shaped, tripartite Renaissance Revival-style design placed the entrance deeply and dramatically recessed between the main wings.  Double-height stone architraves with large, full-relief daisy-like rosettes in their spandrels lined up along the base and decorative piers with sweeping volutes flanked the entrance.

The spartan, six-story midsection was sandwiched between intermediate cornices.  The top section featured double-height, Renaissance-inspired arches that framed stacked pairs of openings, each separated by Scamozzi columns.

The Hotel Whitby attracted artistic residents early on.  Among the initial tenants was silent film critic for The New York Herald Tribune, Harriett Underhill.  Beginning her career shortly after her marriage at the age of 16, she played minor parts on the stage and in road shows.  She was a chorus girl in the original Floradora company.  She joined the The Herald Tribune in 1908.

Also living in the Hotel Whitby at the time were artist Carl Wuermer, singer Ivan Alexis, and writer Mary Margaret McBride.  Born in 1899, McBride contributed articles to periodicals like Liberty, Pictorial Review and Delineator, and was the author of Jazz and Charm.  She would become the host of a radio interview show that lasted more than four decades.

Ivan Alexis was, in fact, the stage name of Ivan Alexievitch Romanoff, a nephew of the late Grand Duke Nicholas and the son of Prince Nicholas Feodorovitch Romanoff, a former attaché of the late Tsar.  He came to New York City in 1921 for "training his voice for grand opera," according to The New York Times.  In January 1929 the 27-year-old basso was appearing in The Red Robe.  After the performance one night, he stopped into Joe Ward's Uptown Club on West 125th Street where Evelyn Nesbit was conducting a revue.

Nesbit had been a central figure in the murder of architect Stanford White by her husband, Harry Thaw, in 1906.  She was now married to Jack Clifford, her former dancing partner.  On February 6, 1929, three weeks after Alexis walked into the cafe, Evelyn Nesbit announced their engagement to reporters. 

"I am still the wife of Jack Clifford," she said, "but I expect to get my divorce in New Jersey very soon.  I vowed I would never marry again, but this is a real love affair, and when I get my divorce I shall become Princess Evelyn."

Alexis was no doubt well acquainted with another resident, William J. Guard, who had been the press agent for the Metropolitan Opera Company since 1910.  A widower, he was described by The New York Times as "one of the most colorful and familiar figures in musical circles."  Born in Ireland in 1862, he had been involved in the opera long before joining the Metropolitan Opera.  He downplayed his importance to those he represented.  "Hammerstein never needed a press agent, and Gatti-Casazza doesn't need one either," he once said.  Nevertheless, he made stars of rising singers.

On February 25, 1932, Guard suffered a heart attack.  A week later, on the night of March 3, he died in his apartment in the Hotel Whitby.  Within 30 minutes, the moving electric bulletin on Times Square notified crowds as they left the theaters.

Guard donated his body to a medical school for dissection.  He bequeathed his estate to a niece, Marguerite McAllister Taneyhill with one stipulation.  If his cousin Lorna Barrett Hall "learns shorthand and typewriting and can prove herself self-supporting," said his will, she would inherit one-third of the estate.

Former vaudeville entertainer Frank Wallace lived here as early as 1935.  In April that year, he wrote to Register of Deeds George A. Bowman saying:

Kindly advise me of proper steps necessary to obtain a photostatic copy of my marriage license to Mae West April 11, 1911.  Let me know what evidence or information you require.

Wallace told a reporter from the Associated Press that he had not publicized his marriage to the famous actress through the years "because I didn't want to pull Mae down."  But recently he read an article in which "Miss West told at length her reasons for remaining a spinster."  Wallace said that when he saw the article, "it was like a great light dawning and I saw no reason to deny it any longer."  The Racine Journal-Times quoted him on May 2 saying, "Everybody who knows me on Broadway believes I was Mae West's husband.  Why, Wall street is betting 4 to 1 on me."

Frank Wallace and Mae West in 1911.  (copyright expired)

More than two years later, on July 7, 1937, The New York Times reported, "Mae West, screen actress, admitted for the first time today that on April 11, 1911, she was married to Frank Wallace, former New York vaudeville performer."  The star was forced into the admission in order to fight Wallace's attempt "to establish a community property interest in Miss West's holdings."  West finally obtained a divorce on May 7, 1943.

Grover Cleveland Alexander lived in the Hotel Whitby by 1941.  Born in 1887, he was known to baseball fans as "Old Pete" and "Alexander the Great."  The former pitcher was inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame in 1938.   

Grover Cleveland Alexander in 1915 while playing with the Philadelphia Phillies (copyright expired)

Fame did not translate to fortune, however.  After he was found on the sidewalk on Sixth Avenue at 39th Street with a cut above his left eye on August 25, 1941, The New York Times remarked that he "has been appearing in a sideshow in a West Forty-second Street amusement hall.  A New York morning newspaper has been raising a fund for his benefit."  (Alexander would be played by future President Ronald Reagan in the 1952 film The Winning Team.)

Actor, director and producer Clarence Derwent, who was born in England, was president of the Actors Equity Association in 1949.  He left his apartment in the Hotel Whitby that year with 14 other actors to perform for United States troops in Germany.  Upon his return on August 17, he was detained by immigration officials at La Guardia Airport.  He was heatedly questioned about any affiliation with the Communist Party.  Back in his apartment, he told a reporter, "It was a surprising end to what has been a wonderful, exciting trip.  I repeatedly asked whether there was anything I was charged with or accused of and I got no answer of any kind."

Clarence Derwent, from the collection of the New York Public Library

Four years earlier Derwent had established the annual Clarence Derwent Awards "for the best performers in supporting roles."  He was the president of the Dramatic Workshop and Technical Institute and established a two-year scholarship to the facility in 1952.  He published his autobiography, The Derwent Story in 1954.

In the summer of 1959, Clarence Derwent was in rehearsals for the NBC television show The House on High Street.  When he did not show up at the studio on August 6 and friends could not reach him, the Hotel Whitby's manager used a pass key to enter the apartment and found him dead of natural causes.

Other thespian residents in the 1950s were singer and actress Lillian Boardman Smith, known on stage as Lillian Boardman; and her actor husband Howard Smith.   Lillian began her career in revues and in vaudeville.  Although she retired in 1930 after marrying Smith, he continued to act.  In 1953 he appeared in A Red Rainbow on Broadway.

Among the tenants in the building in the 1970s were actor and director Fred Stewart, a co-founder of the Actors Studio; character actor Joe E. Marks, best known perhaps for his portrayal of Pappy Yokum in the stage and screen versions of Li'l Abner; and dramatic actress Grania O'Malley, widow of William Dunham, her former vaudeville partner.  Also here in the 1970s were husband and wife actors Nina Olivette and Harry Stockwell.   (Stockwell was the father of actors Dean and Guy Stockwell.)

Joe E. Marks in his role as Pappy Yokum.  from the collection of the New York Public Library.

In 1988, the owner of the Whitby began selling the 200 apartments as cooperatives.  Writing in The New York Times on January 4, 1988, Elizabeth Neuffer explained, "Should 15 percent of the apartments be sold by summer, the entire building would go co-op."  The residents were fearful, she said, that it would alter "its affordability and its bonhomie."

"The Whitby, its residents say, is not just any apartment building."  Neuffer wrote, "Since 1923 [sic] it has been home to generations of struggling chorus girls, traveling jazz musicians, theater stars and fresh-faced Broadway hopefuls.  Whitby lore has it that Doris Day lived there, as did Betty Grable, and even today, the Whitby's apartment directory--if it had one--would read like a Stagebill."  (Incidentally, there is no firm evidence that either Day or Grable lived here.)

The conversion from residential hotel to cooperative apartments was finalized that year.  Twenty-four years later, The New York Times journalist Matt A. V. Chaban returned to see what the change had made.  The title of his article said much:  "At 90, Still a Haven for Broadway Performers."

The result, Chaban found, was "rather than being a haven for struggling artists, the building is now much more a home for successful ones."  Still living here since 1983 was rehearsal pianist Paul Ford, "a frequent Stephen Sonheim collaborator," according to Chaban.  Other residents at the time were dancer Michael Apuzzo, who performed with the Paul Taylor Dance Company; and actor Austin Colyer, whose Broadway shows included Singin' In the Rain, I remember Mama and Pal Joey.  (Colyer would die in his apartment here on June 25, 2015 at the age of 84.)

photograph by Michael Bednarek

Well maintained, The Whitby survives not only as a handsome example of Emery Roth-designed works, but an important part of New York theatrical history.

many thanks to reader "Fat Al NYC" for suggesting this post